


Familiar Faces

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Dragon Age: Inquisition [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Halamshiral, Handsy nobles, Started from the bottom now we're here, Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, court intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of the pomp of Halamshiral, a Tevinter elf and the Inquisition's spymaster observe how a famous figure shocks the Orlesian nobility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar Faces

“You know you could stand to look a little friendlier,  _amicus_.”

Fenris bit back a vicious growl. If the  _altus_  did not shut his mouth soon, his blood would decorate the Winter Palace. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the gardens?” he hissed, trying to appear nonchalant as he surveyed the vestibule for signs of unusual movement. So far the entire affair was making him immensely uncomfortable. For all the Southerners’ insistence that the Imperium was a land steeped in corruption and decadence, they truly were no better.

Save for the lack of sacrificial slaves and blood magic, murderous intent and gluttony filled the air. It sickened him. Pavus’s presence helped things little, but Lady Trevelyan insisted upon bringing her kinsman.

The mage replied, “As charming as these Orlesian gardens are, it seems the Inquisitor wants me to join her in the servants’ quarters. Something about a lead…”

Fenris gave an acknowledging grunt. “I’ll proceed to the ballroom then. Commander Cullen and the Spymaster may require another set of eyes.” He gave Pavus a brief glance before walking off, wondering where Lady Trevelyan had seen fit to keep their weapons if she intended on encountering an enemy. He knew Garrett had been itching for his bow and quiver all evening.

Once in the ballroom he ignored the incredulous looks from the humans gathered and the surreptitious glances of the serving elves. He had grown used to the world eyeing him and the weapon strapped to his back, but he was with the Inquisition and they did not dare challenge him, or perhaps feared him.

He made his way towards the Spymaster, who gazed at the ballroom through narrowed, focused eyes. “Something amiss?”

“The Inquisitor has taken Hawke, Dorian, Cassandra, and the Iron Bull to investigate the inner apartments.”

“I’ve heard. We knew this could happen.”

“Yes, but I would have preferred such tidings had not come from Lady Morrigan,” Leliana said with a frown. “If only I knew what her game was.”

Fenris’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Ah, the Empress’s court mage. Your old associate. I would imagine the reunion would have been a happier one.”

“Time changes people, even old friends. I just hope nothing occurs while Lady Trevelyan’s away…”

His eyes traversed the ballroom, falling on the three figures across the dance floor, one of them smaller than the other two. He shared Leliana’s sentiments, if only to keep Lia out of harm’s way, but at least she was obeying him and staying close to Ambassador Montilyet. Lia was still as a statue, her face obscured by the lightweight Orlesian mask she wore and her hands clasped together in a nervous gesture.

He saw her flinch at the same time that a horn sounded and all talking ceased in time for the herald to announce, “Ladies and gentlemen! From the Kingdom of Ferelden, representing Queen Anora Theirin, High Chancellor and Grey Warden Siri Brosca, Hero of Ferelden and Paragon of Orzammar!”

Fenris heard the sharp intake of Leliana’s breath and turned his gaze to the doors, opened to reveal a woman of small stature in a gown of deep bronze, dark hair gathered in a formal bun and mask half-hidden my a delicately embossed golden mask that displayed the tucked wings of a griffon.

The Orlesian court immediately began to whisper as Siri Brosca made her way across the dance floor, closer to where Celene stood. The dwarf woman walked with sure steps, coming to a stop in the customary place and moved into a low, graceful bow, rising slowly and gazing straight at the Empress, displaying part of the brand that once marked her as Casteless.

The Empress acknowledged her arrival with the slightest nod of her head and greeted, “Welcome to Halamshiral, dear Chancellor. Your presence honors Us greatly.”

The High Chancellor replied in clear tones that rang across the ballroom, “The honor is entirely mine, Empress Celene. Queen Anora sends her best wishes and hopes that tonight’s peace talks will end the bloodshed. Hopefully in time to save Thedas from its true enemy.”

Fenris noted she spoke in a courtly tone, a far cry from the casual vernacular he was accustomed to hearing from her. An excellent performance in this nest of vipers.

Celene answered smoothly, “That is what we all hope, Chancellor Brosca. Please enjoy the ball.”

The niceties observed the Chancellor moved away from the dance floor and the guests began to speak in loud whispers once again. Fenris had to grin at the surprise radiating from the spymaster. “I gather you had no idea she would come.”

“None,” Leliana admitted. “I’ve been keeping her up to date on the Inquisition’s doings, but I never expected her to come…But to have the Hero of Ferelden among them will shake many Orlesian nobles.”

The Chancellor wove through the crowds, graciously smiling at any who addressed her though her brightest look was reserved for Leliana, whom she greeted warmly. “Ah! Lady Nightingale! How wonderful to see you again!”

Leliana laughed softly and replied, “Likewise, my Lady Chancellor.”

It was not the sort of greeting one expected between old comrades, but this was not the place for something so personal. The Chancellor’s golden eyes fell on Fenris and her smile grew broader. “Ser Fenris! I had no idea you’d be here as well!”

He offered her a bow from the waist. “Chancellor Brosca. You honor me.”

Her eyes shimmered behind the mask before turning back to Leliana. “Sister Nightingale, perhaps you two might show me one of the more exquisite views from the balconies. Queen Anora asked that I not miss a single detail of tonight’s ball.” Fenris quickly translated that as a need to speak privately.

Leliana maintained her smile like an expert. “Certainly. If you two would follow me.” She led them past where Cullen stood, a concerned frown on his face before he returned his attention to the nobles around him. They exited the ballroom, coming to a deserted balcony that overlooked the other buildings of the Palace.

At last Siri Brosca and Leliana wrapped each other in an embrace that spoke of the long years of their separation. “It’s good to see you again, my friend,” the redhead whispered.

When they parted Warden Brosca was beaming from ear to ear, reaching up to remove her mask and reveal a face thinned by what he could only assume was the Taint. “Spymaster for the Inquisition. It sounds so  _fun_.”

Leliana gave Warden Brosca an awed gaze. “You look beautiful! This gown is exquisite! And the mask…”

Warden Brosca held it out for Leliana to examine. “Anora’s idea. She wanted me to make an impression. The thing weighs as much as a bronto. I’m already getting a headache.”

“I confess I did not expect to see you here.”

“Ever since Redcliffe, Anora wants to make these…venatori pay, one way or another. I let her in on what you told me about the potential future and she sent me here to observe what goes on.”

“How are the little ones? And Zevran?”

Melancholy clouded Warden Brosca’s eyes for a moment. “The boys are with my sister in Orzammar. As for Zevran…you may be hearing from him soon.” She shook her head sadly and Fenris felt a pang when he realized what she’d speak of. “I haven’t told Ranni…It doesn’t seem like something I can tell him in a letter. I’d rather he hear it from me.”

Warden Alistair’s son. Another reason Garrett’s days were haunted.

As if catching wind of his thoughts, the warden turned her bright gaze on him. “Oh, Fenris! I’m so glad to see another familiar face. Is Garrett here too?”

He smiled in an attempt to hide his disquiet. “He is, as is Lia. It’s good to see you again, Lady Brosca.”

“So you’re both in the Inquisition now. Where is Hawke? And this famous Inquisitor? I hoped we’d meet.”

“Investigating the palace, on the word of an old acquaintance of ours,” Leliana replied darkly.

Warden Brosca chuckled softly. “If you mean Morrigan, I’ve already spoken with her briefly in the vestibule. Really, Leliana. You ought to trust her a bit.” She turned back to Fenris, her gaze intensely earnest in its concern. “How is Hawke? I know he too was trapped in the Fade, and…saw what happened.”

Fenris let out a soft sigh, knowing what Alistair had meant to her. Remembering how Garrett shook in his arms in fear of his dreams, he replied in a strained tone, “He blames himself, Lady Brosca…And I am quite sure he thinks you will blame him for Ser Alistair’s demise.”

“I don’t blame Hawke at all, Fenris” Siri Brosca said softly, her sorrow emanating from her eyes. “Alistair was my brother and friend, but he did his duty as a Warden. I couldn’t expect him to do otherwise.” She gave him an understanding smile, but Fenris was not sure that would be enough to ease Garrett’s guilt. She then asked the human, “Leliana, have you sent word to Fenthari?”

“I sent some agents with a message, but I’m not sure if she’s received it.”

“…I will keep Ranni safe for her. I won’t let her lose anyone else.”

Recalling the note Alistair had shared with them before the events at Adamant, Fenris asked, “Are you aware of the mission the Warden-Commander has undertaken?”

“I am, and…I’m hoping she finds it soon.” She inhaled shakily and closed her eyes for a moment, walking towards the balcony and staring out at Halamshiral. “This Calling may be false, but it’s still frightening. The dreams…they’re as bad as they were during the Blight.” Siri Brosca opened her eyes, a sheen of moisture appearing on the edges. “While I will be forever grateful to Duncan, I refuse to die like this. Hopefully Fenthari’s mission will bear fruit, and we may be free of this death sentence.”

She slowly fastened the mask back on her face and turned back toward them with a distant smile. “Shall we go back inside and make sure these Orlesians don’t destroy themselves?”

Leliana gave her friend an empathetic gaze. “Perhaps we should.”

Fenris watched both women return indoors and followed after, pausing at the sound of a rather undignified squawk from the Commander.

“Did you just…touch my  _bottom!?”_

One of the masked guests replied rather unapologetically, “I am a weak man.”

Shuddering with distaste, Fenris hoped the Inquisitor would return soon so that they might quit this wretched place for good.


End file.
